Ciarán’s grin is sly. “Not denying the grump part?”
Noah snickers, delighted to see his best friend getting poked at.
The words slip out before I even realize I’ve spoken. “Do you serve emotional maturity?” I ask Lou, pointing between my brother and Ciarán. “We’re running low at this table.”
For a moment, silence—then laughter breaks out around me. Abbie snorts into her mimosa, Ciarán throws his head back and cackles, and even Aiden cracks a grin.
Heat climbs up my neck, but not the bad kind. The kind that always came if I was the center of attention. For a second, I feel like I belong here. I feel like the old me, the version that could easily go out with his friends and felt confident enough to tease them.
My eyes are drawn to Noah. He’s already watching me—not like I’ve said something stupid. He looks… proud. Like me saying one dry line in the middle of brunch is worth something. His hand shifts slightly on the back of my chair, not quite a touch, but close enough to feel the heat of him. It makes me shiver.
The conversation rolls on. Food arrives, plates clattering onto the table. French toast dripping syrup, eggs piled high, my brother huffing when Ciarán insists the burrata is “better than sex.” I try to eat, but my stomach still doesn’t feel right. Still, I find myself smiling more than I expected. I duck my head when it happens, worried it looks foreign on me after all this time.
Toward the end, Ciarán claps his hands. “Okay, business time. I’m organizing an author event.”
His eyes find mine, and I feel like I’m supposed to know where this is going. I have no idea, though.
He keeps our gazes locked, speaking brightly, but there’s a cautious edge to his tone. “The author thought they had a space organized, but it fell through, and now we’re stuck. The event is at the end of next week…”
The words are like ice-cold water down my back.
He’s grinning, all bright eyes and energy, but there’s a softness around his eyes as he watches me. He continues talking about a friend who’s an indie author and writes queer fantasy villains. I’m only hearing parts, anxiety taking over. My throat closes. My shoulders inch back up to my ears.
“Don’t look at me,” I mumble when his gaze won’t leave mine.
“I’m absolutely looking at you,” he fires back, “the bookstore is perfect. Intimate, cozy, a safe space. It would be perfect. Great visibility for the business, too.”
I tighten my grip on the glass until it rattles against the table with my trembling fingers. My voice is low. “I know I used to host things like that. But I don’t know if I can…”
I trail off, cheeks burning. I’ve said too much.
A hush falls over the table. I can’t look at them. My eyes sting at my own omission, embarrassment raking through me.
Ciarán softens his voice. “Then let me take the lead, I’m the event organizer, anyway. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t up for. It’s just using your space, really. If the time comes and you don’t even want to attend, that’s okay too.”
The thought of not attending an event in my own store sits sour in my stomach. My mind keeps circling back to the fact that this is something I’ve always wanted for the store, book events, and the queer community in my space, where it’s safe. Being that place for anyone who needs somewhere to belong.
I glimpse Noah from the corner of my eye; he’s still watching me. Something about his closeness, his eyes on me, makes mefeel brave. I stare at the glass, force a slow exhale, and nod once. “Okay.”
It comes out small. But it’s still yes.
Aiden is grinning at me as Abbie lifts her glass, like this moment is worth celebrating. Maybe it is. “To sexy villains and local stories.”
We clink. My cheeks are hot, but there’s a smile tugging at my mouth. Shy, but genuine, as a wave of unfamiliar excitement flows through me.
The street is, thankfully, quieter than the diner, though my ears are still ringing. Sunlight spills through the trees, dappling across the pavement as we head toward Evergreen. Abbie and Ciarán hop into her Beetle, waving goodbye. Aiden peels off, heading toward home, calling that he’ll see us later.
Noah stays beside me, unhurried as we walk.
“That was fun,” he says carefully, as though the words might send me running down the street.
I let a pause stretch before answering, nerves still tangled in my chest. “It was. More than I expected.” My mouth curves. “I’m… glad I went. Thank you for coming...” I look at him. “For encouraging me.”
“Of course,” he says lightly. Then, before I can even look away, with a quirk of his lips, he says, “You’re kind of cheeky, how did I never realize that?”
“What? No, I’m not,” I defend.
He nods his head as his smile grows. “You definitely are. In a dry way, I like it.”
